


the pocket watched ticked, and across the ocean it was heard

by sweetgoodgraciousangel



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, slight crush implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetgoodgraciousangel/pseuds/sweetgoodgraciousangel
Summary: Augustine departs on a trip to Phantasmoor with his father. Along the way, he's found himself fixated on the idea of bringing a gift back to Oswald.





	the pocket watched ticked, and across the ocean it was heard

Augustine woke up a third morning in a row with nausea.

 

The boat rocked on the waves to and fro, in sync with the way the wind was blowing when he rose from his bed. It wasn’t as bad as it was the first night, when he couldn’t sleep due to severe sickness in his stomach. He’d never been on a boat before, so there was no telling that it would have made him ill, but with rest and a lot of not-so-heavy foods on his stomach, he was able to push through the first few breaking hours with only mild gagging and dry-heaving. If he held his breath and forced it out slowly, he could stomach breakfast if he was lucky. He really didn’t want to have to replace something nice on the boat his father had insisted they traveled on to get to their destination with something as grotesque as sea sickness.

 

This morning they departed the boat. It was a three day travel, so he would hope that by the time the clock struck noon, he’d have swathed himself in a heavy wool coat and gloves so he could finally touch the grass again. He’d have to admit, Autumere was a beautiful place to live in and it was a blessing for it to be his home, but it would be interesting to see grass that was bright green instead of a faded yellow. The grass back in his hometown wasn’t _dead_ , as it just naturally grew a sickly mustard-like yellow. As did all the trees grow bright red and orange leaves year round. It was almost like Autumere didn’t experience seasons other than the fall. With neutral weather that required a long sleeve just so you didn’t shiver, it was a perfect place to live for those who didn’t care to garden their crops with the sun beating down their backs.

 

Augustine forgot the name of the place he and his father were to visit. His father had told him that they were going to see an old friend of his, but never caught the name and slowly let the name of the town fade away when the raging indisposition overtook him. He was sure it was some place that started with a “P” but it still didn’t ring any bells to him, and the harder he thought about it, the more the name got away from him. He’s sure he’ll figure it out before they reach land.

 

He chose not to eat though. Better to be wise and listen to how his body was feeling rather jump and make it worse on himself.

 

Augustine did drink coffee though. It was the same cup he’d drank out of the day prior. Only a little creamer and sugar, and he always managed to take sips from the same place with the little chip in the ceramic. It was well used by the people on board, having obviously been dropped at least once, but it was a wonder how he'd ended up with it three days in a row. The crack in the ceramic wasn’t sharp enough to cut his lip, but roughly capable of replicating the feeling of sand paper. He let his shoulders sink into the plush chair, focusing his eyes out on the shimmering morning waters that seemed more gray than the romanticized blue people spoke so poetically about. The dining area was full of stuck up people with diamonds hanging off their ears and fingers, and the last thing he wanted to do was socialize with people who flaunted their wealth.

 

Augustine took another sip of his coffee and patiently waited for his father to call his name so they could dress warmly and depart the boat for the day. Augustine promised Oswald he’d be home soon, and though Oswald had been sad to see him leave, he’d still jabbed him with his elbow and said to at least bring him back a souvenir. It was not at all serious, but the comment had remained at the forefront of his mind clearly. Oswald wasn’t someone who fancied nice things, and it wasn’t like this entire time Augustine had been obsessing over what Oswald would have wanted for him to bring back (it was a JOKE, he had to remind himself on multiple occasions) but he thought it would be a suitable compromise for leaving him by his lonesome. Oswald had more friends than he did himself, so he shouldn’t be terribly lost…

 

He imagined the distant sound of ticking.

 

A loud _tick_ … and a quick heartbeat pause before a resounding _tock_ . _Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock_ …

 

The inner workings of a clock were fascinating. He supposed he missed the big clock in Autumere. Oswald had always insisted the two of them relax together by it, seeing as there was a little bakery just by the corner of it. There would be biscuits, tea, and the sounds of the loud thin second hand moving in time with the world. Oswald talked, but never looked at Augustine. He kept his eyes on the time.

 

He finished his coffee and his thoughts before rising to dress. His father told him it would be best to prepare now since they would be arriving in less than an hour. By the time both of them were dressed and he’d asked his father where they were going (Phantas...Moortas… ah, forget it), he was layered in a long black coat and leather gloves. His father had told him that the place was unusually cold for the time of year, but had once heard that it was always cold because of lingering spirits. Apparently, true to legend, this town was thriving with ghosts. Augustine sighed and glared out the window in their room. Of all the lovely places they could visit in the world, they had to visit a place infested with spirits. He’s sure the townspeople would be a lovely greet.

 

And to his immense surprise, it was a rather soothing place to be. So much for the bright green scenery he’d been hoping for though. Once the boat had docked and Augustine remembered how to steady his feet on the soft land damp with sea water, he was surprised to see a rather lively town filled with common people and magicfolk. It looked no different than Autumere did, save for the fact that everything was bright and beautiful, and this town was… lacking in the color department. Other than thought, it wasn’t a giant graveyard like he’d previously been foolishly expecting. Of course, it was a _town_ , and people had to live there _somehow_. No one was going to be a zombie. Everyone had a smile on their face and markets to run. It was bustling.

 

His father had clapped him on the back.

 

“Stay in the market area. I’ll visit my friend and return as soon as possible. Don’t wander off too far - it’ll be hard to reunite in a place we hardly know. We’re here for pleasantries, so I’ll collect you in time for dinner. First, I have to find him.”

 

Augustine had nodded. He didn’t plan to leave the marketplace anyway. He supposed it wouldn’t kill him to look around. He wondered why he couldn’t go with his father to search for his friend, but chose not to question it. His father wasn’t one for secrets, so he supposed if he wasn’t given an explanation, there was none to have. None that concerned him, anyway.

 

His father left him then. Augustine dug around in his pockets and let his fingers reassuringly touch the money he’d shoved in there earlier. Better to have some around than none, he supposed. He didn’t quite know how certain he was walking around the open doors and tents, but his feet moved before his mind told him not to. He didn’t want to stand for who knew how long waiting for his father to come get him, and there was the matter of finding Oswald something for the return of his trip.

 

That’s what drove him to peer at some of the things in glass cases in the tents. He overlooked a lot of it as simple tinkered jewelry and rare gems stuck in bands of gold, as it was really all it could be. And, when that passed, he felt like he’d seen nothing. It wasn’t like it was an important goal of his to be sure Oswald received something, but it was impossible to think of a gift his friend would enjoy and, preferably, would use often. Something like a ring or necklace seemed so cliche and enjoyable for only a short amount of time.

 

It was ridiculous. He buried his face even deeper into the neck of his coat, hoping to warm up his chilling nose.

 

That’s when his eyes caught something silver shining softly in the midday sun underneath a dark tent, set up just underneath a tree and rather far away from the others. He took a deep breath and made a few steps toward it, eyes locked onto the shimmering metal. Once he approached, the person underneath the tent - a hood covered the majority of their face save for their mouth, so there was no telling what they looked like - had given him a toothy grin and asked if something had caught his eye. Instead of answering, he looked closer at what had gotten his attention. It was the only thing in full on sunlight, unlike the rest of the tent.

 

It looked quite a bit like the clock tower back at home. A marble center, the silver outlinings, and instead of loud ticks that seemed to project throughout the entire area, it was so quiet it could be barely heard. His gloved fingers raised to touch just the top of the smooth glass, but the second he did, the owner of the tent spoke again, asking him if there was something he would like to look at.

 

“This pocket watch. How much is it?”

 

“What price would _you_ give it, young one?”

 

Augustine somehow felt belittled. It looked expensive, but if the tent owner wanted to degrade him for his appearance, then two could play at this game.

 

“I’ll give you five hundred gold.”

 

The tent owner snickered.

 

“Five hundred for such fine craftsmanship? I make everything you see here by hand, boy, and I expect profit. I’ll take five thousand, and no less.”

 

Augustine felt his nose wrinkle with frustration, but stopped to quizzically raise an eyebrow at the tent owner. He paused for only a moment longer before he sighed. He was quick to throw out a response.

 

“Seven hundred, and a little advice.”

 

“Make it seven hundred and a half so I can bear what you have to tell me.”

 

“You’ll let me buy it for that price? You said five thousand and no less.”

 

“I won’t haggle with you. Isn’t the customer always right?”

 

Now Augustine is sure this person is screwing around with him, but he chose not to bicker back. He dug for the money in his pocket and yanked it out, slapping it on the table between them. The tent owner reached out and swiped it, just as Augustine took the pocket watch by it’s silver chain and shoved it in his pocket. With a smug grin, the tent owner leaned back in their creaky wooden chair, hands coming together in their lap.

 

“Now, what is it you have to tell me?”

 

Augustine smirked.

 

“If you really handled silver, than you’d know not to put it in direct sunlight. It tarnishes like that. Know about the things you steal before you try and pretend to be an artist.”

 

The tent owner had nothing to say as Augustine turned on his foot and stepped away, a smile on his face. Augustine had suspected the tent owner to be a crook the second he stepped up, but if the crook were to do their research, then maybe it would have been more convincing to have paid the full price he was given. They hadn’t offered to explain any of the finer details of the pocket watch unlike the rest of the tent owners had before, and certainly didn’t act like they knew how to make things directly. Besides, for such a luxury like silver and marble, it still wouldn’t have been five thousand gold. The original five hundred he offered sounded about right.

 

Oh well. Save the complaining for later. He was sure to put a lot of distance between himself and the tent and chose to sit somewhere that was a small bit away from the market area. He looked at the tall tower in the distance, to which the common people of the town were swarming around. No one was going inside, but for some reason, they all stood around. They had flowers in their hands. Augustine looked the old, obviously ancient stone tower up and down multiple times, but found nothing fascinating about it. He supposed it could just be a landmark people highly respected. If this was a ghost town, then it would make sense for people to praise things that were built in the past too.

 

He eventually took out the pocket watch he’d bought and glanced over it.

 

At least the marble was real, alongside the silver. He wondered who the crook of a tent owner stole it from. Either way, he couldn’t deny its similarities to the clock tower back at home. And if that weren’t enough to make it a successful trip around an unfamiliar place, the thought of Oswald’s happiness to have it made it even better. He smiled slightly, slipping it back into his pocket, brought out of his thoughts by the sound of his father calling his name in the distance. He greeted him with a wave, briefly showed him the pocket watch, and then allowed himself to be guided by his father’s side to the home of his friend, where he had a lovely dinner consisting of stewed beef and warm apple cider.

 

One of the last meals he’d be having before boarding the boat once more, which departed sharply at dawn the next morning. They’d rest there at night, and leave as soon as they woke. It made his stomach turn to think about waking up to the violent rocking waves once more, but he could bear it enough to return home to see Oswald again. He thought about getting a small gift box, but found no time for it, as by the time his body had hit the bed provided to him in the guest room of his host's’ house, he was drained of energy. Despite having done nothing but relax and try not to be sick for only three days, he felt tired. He slept with the pocket watch under his pillow, just to be sure he wouldn’t lose it in the morning. He was worried if he kept it in his pockets, he would have tossed and turned enough all night to lose it permanently in the sheets.

 

He denied breakfast, despite his father’s disapproval, though accepted the coffee given to him. He’d managed to drink it all before leaving with the pocket watch in his hand and following his father out the door and back into the bite of the early morning chill. Augustine hadn’t been here long, but for some reason, it was a comfortable place to have visited. It made the thought rise in his mind that someday, he’d bear the trip of the boat once more to bring Oswald here. He had no doubt that his friend would have liked it, especially with how outgoing and friendly he was. He’d make it his home in no time.

 

It was that thought that made him feel secure the second he stepped onto the unsteady bridge once more to board the boat. The thought of Oswald’s smile drove away any oncoming sickness that came from the waves, knocking the boat back and forth. He was able to sleep peacefully that night, welcomed to his dreams by the thought of returning home and seeing his friend again.

**Author's Note:**

> i wanna take a nap
> 
> also this is before oswald and augustine stopped being friends and is essentially about how augustine gave oswald his prized marble and silver pocket watch :|


End file.
